


I Loved You A Thousand Times

by PeacefulDiscord



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, Family Feels, Hashi's too overprotective but what can you do?, M/M, MadaTobi Week 2020, Once listed as poor attempt but I don't think it's "so" bad anymore, Romantic Fluff, i tried but I like angst so much more
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22427026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeacefulDiscord/pseuds/PeacefulDiscord
Summary: Short random fics featuring Madatobi somehow or anotherSnippets for MadaTobi Week from chapter three onwards! Prompt fills:Chapter 3: De-agingChapter 4: Madara WinsChapter 5: Demons and Angels
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 34
Kudos: 225
Collections: MadaTobi Week 2020





	1. Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying— Don’t Do Both

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Kindling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20600066) by [KeanBlade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeanBlade/pseuds/KeanBlade). 



> Yes, I know I have other stories. Yes I am awful at humor. And yet here we are
> 
> Because Madara clearly needed to listen to FOB

Ten Years Living in the Afterlife at a Cafe:

Death was a weird thing. Really weird. For one, it was as if no one cared about what happened on Earth anymore. No one cared about the war, no one cared about blood feuds, that grumpy old lady didn't even care that Madara had made her cat sick when he was a child by feeding the damn thing warm milk anymore. Which was ridiculous because she protested everything he did on that basis alone when she was alive! 

_Oh we can't trust Madara-sama, he fed my precious Shiomi milk like a foolish bat!_

_Oh are we really listening to Madara-sama? We'll all get sick, like my cat!_

Get sick doing what?, he asks you. Get sick from laying aside their weapons? Get sick from wearing battle armor while going into battle, like any with sense would? 

On and on and on that old bat had rattled and prattled until Madara's brain shook like stones in a jar. And now? Now the old croon apparently couldn't even _remember_ how much trouble she'd been. No, now it was time that _Madara_ got over it. 

He was half tempted to kick her cat back to Earth. See her get over _that_. 

Madara scrubbed a hand down his face. It was horrifying— he'd finally made it to the afterlife (Death, by the way, was childishly unhappy with him. Apparently you're not supposed to avoid him or some crap like that. Laughing hadn't been the right response either— reliving a different version of one's death was awful, especially when they made no fucking sense. Really! The spiteful bastard had made Madara "die" by tripping into a incredibly shallow puddle and drowning. There wasn't even anything holding him down! He just didn't get up for some fucking reason and drowned. Like an idiot. The second reliving, Madara had literally been _choked_ to death by his own fucking hair. And then he fell down the stairs. He was already mostly dead, there was no point to that! All it did was hurt! He still suffocated to death! Then the third! The third was the worst! Madara got hit by a hippo. A "cute" baby hippo. A large, bumbling, heavy-as-a-house baby hippo. By _accident_. It hadn't even been looking at him— no, it was chasing a butterfly! Madara had been "in the way".) only to find out that Izuna still hadn't gotten over his bratty teenager phase despite being twenty-four and dead for four times that. 

Which is, of course, how they ended up _here_.

Izuna paused, Tobirama shoving a cup of tea right in front of his lips (yes, you read that right. _Tobirama. Senju Tobirama._ Because they were _friends_ now), cutting off his stupid tirade of "why globalization was bad" mercifully. Madara sighed in relief, relaxing his grip on his ridiculously tiny spoon (honestly what was the purpose of this thing when it barely fit the breadth of his palm length wise and held not even a mouthful of food?). He'd just been about to scoop his brain out through his eyes too. He eyed the bread basket, snatching up the softest, fluffiest piece to sink his teeth into. Who cared that they didn't need to eat? This was good. 

"I still can't believe you didn't get over me dying. It took you like three lifetimes?? When you could have just died like a normal person and been reunited with me here. Or instead of rewriting your death, you maybe could have tried rewriting mine, which still not normal, but it makes sense. I mean, really, nii-san? And you thought Hashirama was dramatic. I can't believe you." Izuna huffed, staring at Madara in bemusement even as he slurped at his tea like an uncivilized moose. 

Madara dropped his croissant, slamming his tiny spoon on the table as he turned to face Izuna angrily. They'd been over this! Twenty-three times! "Fucking— quit bringing it up Izuna! I was grieving! I wasn't thinking clearly."

“ _Quit bringing it up Izuna. Grief made me stupid Izuna,"_ Izuna mocked in a high pitched voice, snatching up a flower crown from Hashirama who happened to be passing by. Placing it firmly on his head, he fixed his brother with a droll stare, the large sunflowers somehow making Madara feel even more embarrassingly chastised, like he was being scolded by a child. Like he was being scolded by _Kagami_. "No, wait. You were always stupid."

Squawking indignantly (and absolutely not somehow calling a bird to him— stupid bird wouldn't get off his hair, damn it), Madara pushed his hair aside to uncover his eyes. Oooh how he wished he had his Sharingan. Then he'd show Izuna who was the stupid one. It wasn't Madara that sliced off his own pants with shuriken. 

"Oh, don't give me that look!" Izuna rolled his eyes. "Nii-san, you literally came up with the most extra and intricate way to get your revenge. Some of your brain cells _had_ to be working."

Madara snarled, "Just shut up about it! We're all dead now, it doesn't matter!" 

His hair was bristling, he could feel it, and he waved his arms about emphatically to hide the almost sentient nature of the long strands (much to the bird's displeasure. At least it left. Last time it stuck around for so long Madara thought he'd have to go to sleep with the thing). It was bad enough when he'd carved Hashirama's face into his chest (which was thankfully gone now) but he really didn't need people trying to talk to _other_ parts of his body. They still looked at his chest whenever they thought he was being cruel or overly dramatic as if Hashirama's being was still attached to him in some way and could lend him sense. He snorted internally. As if. That man was more a fool than Madara, no matter what Izuna said. What would his little brother know anyways? He'd been _dead_. 

Tobirama snorted, gracefully slipping a piece of fruit between his lips like a seductive harlot (Madara was not entranced by the way, biased by any ill placed lust. He just called things as he saw them. And the man was a harlot— devastatingly beautiful and using his intelligence and passions to make Madara fall in love with him. Fucking shameless. Hashirama would be so embarrassed if he knew the man his brother was). 

Red eyes caught his, that perfect eyebrow practically speaking to him (not good things sadly, though Madara wasn't sure how it would considering that look was specifically for inquiry. Maybe they just needed better queries. Oh yes. That'd be nice. Queries about living together and whether Madara would like to join him in bed...)—

"Oh, do you want him to get over it, hmm Madara? Is that what you want? It has only been ten years, he needs at least a hundred if he's anything like his idiot brother. Maybe even a reincarnation attempt."

Laughing loudly, Izuna touched his knuckles to Madara's snow angel/enemy/accursed crush (fist-bump they called it. As if one's knuckles weren't already the bumps of their fists), both men taking too much pleasure in Madara's floundering protest. 

"Imagine how long it'll take Nii-san to ask you out now." 

  
And that, everyone, was how Madara ended up flatlining in the afterlife quicker than he did in real life. 

He did eventually get that date though. Even if Death was a little petty about the whole dying whilst already dead deal. It wasn't like Madara couldn't stand to be hit by more hippos.


	2. Stupid Cupid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Izuna and Tobirama’s absolute failure XD

This was humiliating, horrendously so.He was Senju Tobirama, the one normal person in his family.Well, maybe Itama and their mom were fairly normal as well but still.He was the most composed one.So this was ridiculous.

"HAHAHAHA you look—stupid—gahhhahahah," Izuna wheezed, face red as he curled up onto the ground, arms wrapped around himself.The perfect place for Tobirama to... _rest_ the heel of his foot onto his supposed friend's gut."OW!Tobi, don't be so mean!Ni-san will love it!"

Tobirama scowled.Of course Madara would love it!He would bathe in chocolate if he could, his sweet tooth scarily insatiable.If he got over the mess at least.The older man was borderline OCD, treating every aspect of his life the way Tobirama did his labs and research.

"Happy Valentine's..!Tobirama?"Madara froze, dropping his briefcase onto the barstool at the kitchen counter, blinking slowly.He glanced at Izuna on the floor then back to Tobirama."What happened?"

The window was open, Tobirama noticed, he could escape if he needed to.He'd have to leap over the counter and sink and avoid the plants on the other side but he could make it.He just had to watch out for the chocolate that seemed to coat every surface of their kitchen.It'd be easy.

"Don't—!" Madara snagged Tobirama's sleeve just as the younger man was about to take the dive.The Uchiha tugged Tobirama out of the kitchen, pulling him into his arms and kissing the chocolate off of Tobirama's cheek with a pleased hum."Explain.What the hell happened?"

Tobirama flushed, glaring pointedly at Izuna until the man huffed, pushing himself into his feet. Grinning he snatched up a bowl of chocolate, bounding for the door with a careless wave.

"See you two lovebirds later! I've got a girl to woo...somewhere. Don't forget to be safe!" Ducking the coaster Madara flung at his head, Izuna darted through the door, slamming it behind him.

Tobirama kept his gaze fixed on the door.

Madara waves his hand in front of Tobirama’s eyes.“Koibito?”

The younger man could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, the coloring of his face sure to be brighter than the red of Madara’s shirt.He cleared his throat."...art?"

Madara’s smirk widened, eyebrows raising at the cracking of Tobirama’s voice. Flushing deeper, Tobirama glared pointedly, refusing to hide his face even though every one of his nerves were begging him to.Kami, this was _humiliating_.

“Ah. Of course. Modern art, is it? I would’ve never thought it to be to your liking.” 

“....”

“I’ve a friend with a gallery.Perhaps I should give them a call?I wouldn’t want you to think I don’t support your...new interests.”

“You little shit. _Shut up_.”

He couldn’t do it anymore; Tobirama buried his face into Madara’s hair with a wounded noise, huffing grumpily when the other man laughed.

Madara pressed a kiss to Tobirama’s hair. “I love you too, darling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this many months late? Yes. Does Tobirama share my poor cooking skills? Also yes. And finally, is it perhaps a hint where to look if I finish my work(s) for Madatobi week—
> 
> ...What do you think? 😉


	3. Back to Spots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Another chapter? Alreadyyy??? Well, yeah. It's Madatobi month guys
> 
> Shout out to @copyninken who not only beta'd this work like the kindhearted boss she is but also enabled me so much that it went from being 2K words to nearly 6K words 
> 
> Shout out at the end as well to yet another amazing person so as to not give away the fic
> 
> Prompt: De-aging
> 
> Warnings: Profanity

"Are you sure this is a good idea?," Madara stared at his idiot friend incredulously. "If we die in here, I'm going to kill you Hashirama."

Hashirama paused his snooping, turning away from the test tubes balancing precariously in his hands. He set them down on the table, a smidge too close to the edge if you asked Madara but whatever. That was Hashirama's problem when Tobirama saw how displaced everything was. Brown eyes peered woefully at him, tearfully vehement as the other man pouted, though ineffective with the messy state Hashirama was in. Scraps of parchment paper were stuck in his hair, ink streaking across his cheek and speckling his fingers.

Madara crinkled his nose, chucking a handkerchief into Hashirama's face.

Hashirama beamed, rubbing the cloth against his cheek and smearing the ink more. "I don't think it will be that bad Madara. Tobirama has a lot of protective seals around his lab to keep it safe!"

"Seals that you've no problem getting around!"

It was worrisome really, as foolish as Hashirama was, being related to Tobirama and married to Mito had left him with many chances to learn basic skills. While he could not fully understand the way seals functioned or how to lay them, he knew much too well how to disable some. Some like the ones Tobirama had around his lab.

Not to mention his willingness to disable them.

"Now Madara—," Hashirama began, shoving the napkin into his pocket before snatching up another scroll that looked newer and striking through yet another one of Tobirama's protective seals.

"See! Like that! You even took down the damn wall with your Mokuton just to get in here! If we don't die because of whatever disasters are in here then we will die at your brother's hands!"

Madara shuddered. The last time he aggravated the younger man he'd found himself on the receiving end on some awful seal that summoned nearby birds and critters to him, drawing them to burrow and nest in his hair. Villagers had flocked around him, curious and far too amused, tittering behind hands as they watched the animals lay siege to Madara's hair knowing he was too busy running away to scream at them. His hair was _ruined_ , bitten off and tangled so horribly that he had to chop the strands to a length he hadn't had since being twelve years old.

He can already hear the sharp snap of the younger man's voice— "Don't go in my lab without me!"— as if he were standing right there.

"It's important! He's been in here for _weeks—"_ Hashirama exclaimed, puppy dog eyes on full force.

"Three days! He was in here for three days and he actually came out to eat and take naps—"

"—and who knows what he's been getting up to! He could be getting hurt or devising something awful—"

"He's been making food preserving seals for the past month!"

"Do you remember the chain-reacting explosive tags? The _undead jutsu?_ He said he was working on enhanced storage seals!"

Madara froze, mouth opened to yell, and clamped his lips shut. Tobirama did have a way of spiraling away from his original intentions— it wouldn't hurt to just look to make sure nothing was too....deviated.

"Fine," he huffed. "But if anything happens I'm chopping _your_ hair off!"

Hashirama squeaked, hands coming up to clutch at his hair. And knocking over the test tubes, sending them careening to the floor with a resounding shatter. Madara watched in horror as the liquids met the black lines of a seal Hashirama had left on the floor— to be analyzed with Mito, he said— and lit them. Colored smoke filled the air and Madara could hear the ground breaking apart moments before Hashirama used Mokuton to send them upwards away from the mess. With a quick wind jutsu, weaker than usual he noticed as his vision swam, Madara sent the smoke into the vent system Tobirama had incorporated early on in case of explosions or dangerous fumes.

Madara rubbed his eyes, carefully lowering himself to the ground. His body was aching— much like the summer over a decade ago when he'd grown almost half a foot in what felt like a few short nights. Coughing, he looked up to see how his friend fared and shrieked.

Sitting in front of him, rubbing his eyes, was Hashirama. But _a twelve year old_ Hashirama. With too big clothes and that godforsaken bowl cut.

"What the fuck! Hashirama, you're—"

"Oh my god, Madara you—"

Madara glanced at his hands. His smaller than before, less calloused hands. "We're kids again. What the fuck? How? Hashirama!"

He snarled, throwing himself forward to tackle the other man, no, _boy_ , to the ground. "The fuck did you do Senju?!"

"I don't know— ow! Madara! Don't, not the face!"

"I'll _end_ you!"

———————————————————-

Half an hour and a semi brutal spar that resulted in Hashirama's entire face being painted in ink later and both boys were sitting sullenly in the debris they had made of the once pristine lab.

"Tobi's gonna kill is," Hashirama sniffled, tears cutting through the black. "I won't even get to see what my baby looks like."

"If they're lucky, nothing like you," Madara sneered, pulling at the sticky glue-like substance that he'd tumbled into during the fight, snarling angrily as his sleeves still stuck together.

He was surprised his clothes even stayed on, they were so big, but the ties must have worked for something. Hashirama had already wrapped himself up in the excess cloth and tied it off as tightly as he could with his obi and other straps of fabric that he tore from his haori. Madara, on the other hand, would just have to _wait_.

He tugged at his sleeves again, cursing the glue and Hashirama.

"Ah Madara, don't be mean!" The brunette sobbed. "My baby would be cute! Even if they looked like me!"

Madara opened his mouth to respond— wanted to sneer that it was good Hashirama knew he wasn't attractive— but froze as the door opened at just that moment. Red eyes peered distractedly over a thick book, widening as they caught onto the state of the lab. With careful movements, Tobirama lowered the book and set it down, hand reaching for his sword.

"Anija. Madara. What did you do?" He snarled low in his throat, biting through every word like a separate sentence.

The boys blanched, glancing to each other and then shunshinning to the window only for Tobirama to slam his hand against the wall, a seal stretching across the metal to form a barrier they couldn't get through.

"It was an accident!" Hashirama wailed, gasping through his crocodile tears. "I-am-so so-rry o-tou-to."

He ran over and clutched at Tobirama's yukata, burying his messy face into it. "I'm such a bad brother!"

"Anija! Stop that! You're dirtying my— get off you idiot!"

"I just wanted to make sure you were safe and—!"

"By _destroying_ my lab?" Tobirama shoved at Hashirama, stumbling when the boy's grip didn't let up. "Damn it, you poisonous vine, _let go_!"

"Tobi—!"

"I will get Mito-nee in here so fast—"

Hashirama yelped, letting go with a heavy pout. "You don't have to be like thaaaat," he whined, scuffing his foot on the ground. "That's a really low blow, Tobi. How could you do that to your precious brother—"

"After he destroyed my lab and turned he and his idiot friend back into children?" Tobirama snarked, leveling both of them with a sharp glare. "I've no idea."

Madara shuffled guiltily, wincing as he took in the mess they made.

"We can clean it up!" He offered quickly. Hashirama squawked, shaking his head.

"Oh?" Tobirama quirked a brow. "Properly?"

Madara could feel Tobirama's chakra rise and fall, unsteady and bothered like a riptide, dragging him closer to anger and not letting him calm down, and nodded hastily. Hashirama became frantic in his head shaking, panicked as he looked at the mess miserably,

"Absolutely. No problem. It'll take an hour. Tops!" Madara promised, grinning a touch sheepishly even as he tossed his friend a glare. "I understand why you're upset— we shouldn't have invaded your privacy and we certainly shouldn't have made such a mess of things. We were concerned but we should have respected your boundaries. You've my sincerest apologies Tobirama."

Tobirama's gaze softened and he huffed out a breath, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

"It's fine. You haven't gotten into anything too important. We now need to figure out what you two have done and fix it. None of my seals were meant to do this."

Hashirama slumped in relief, "Oh thank god, I hate cleaning— _what_?"

———————————————————

"Oh wow, I haven't seen Hashirama look that awful in _years,"_ Touka breathed out in wonderment _. "_ I almost forgot he was such an ugly bastard."

"Touka-nee, you're supposed to keep an eye on him so he doesn't destroy anything, not keep an eye on his confidence to just destroy it," Tobirama sighed over his brother's wailing. Then, speaking over the sound of Madara pummeling his brother, asked, "Mito-nee, will you be able to handle the Hokage's duties in your state?"

His sister-in-law and he were able to deduce that the jutsu, since many had overlapped and were then combined by the liquid soaking through the papers and smudging the inks, would eventually wear off on its own, a few days at most given the seals were not meant for major bends in time and space. And, even without that, it would, or at least should, not take them too long to devise a remedy.

But that was for tomorrow. Now, they were much too tired and irritable.

"My pregnant state, Tobirama?" Mito arched a brow. "You'd be amazed at what I can handle in this state, brother-in-law. The bigger concern is will you be able to handle Madara while Izuna is away?"

Tobirama looked at the two boys now disguised as other, unidentifiable children. Too many people remembered them as children or at least would recognize their features. With their weaker abilities it was best to keep them hidden and separated (they couldn't last too long without bickering and yelling each other's name in rage, like the complete idiots they were) to not give away the precarious situation the Village had now found itself in. The jutsu that changed Madara's hair to a soft, pale blue, gentle wisps about his face and skin to an olive tone did nothing to hide the fire in his chakra boiling beneath.

A new student from a distant place— Cloud Country perhaps— that was the story they would go by. A student adopted from parents Tobirama had saved.

The younger man felt a sudden tiredness fill his bones watching Madara blow flames at Hashirama's shoulder length purple hair only to be slapped at by many flowers that erupted quite spontaneously from the wood paneling on the wall.

This would be a long few days if they couldn't undo the mess that was made of Tobirama's work. 

"Izuna may find himself rather alone if he doesn't hurry back," he rubbed between his eyes, hand glowing green to chase away the headache. "Who knows? He might thank me."

He ignored the smirks on his cousin and sister-in-law's faces, snatching Madara by the wrist and all but hauling him out of Hashirama's home to his own. Madara glared and very pointedly took his hand away to instead clasp Tobirama's in his own, twining their fingers together and smiling triumphantly when Tobirama did nothing but sigh.

Oh yes, it'd be a long few days indeed.

———————————————————

The walk home had been silent, the streets much too empty for distraction and they were inside Tobirama's home before he could properly gather himself. He could admire the timing, if anything. Just yesterday his house had been strewn with far too many papers and even some dust, given the time he spent in the office or his lab instead. Messes from ruined meals had been spattered across his kitchen and his dirty laundry pile had consisted of all of his clothes save for the set on his back. That was the breaking point, sending him into the cleaning frenzy that lasted clear into early morning, until every corner was cleaned to pristine, his laundry washed, dried, and packed neatly away. It was the most presentable and welcoming his home had ever been and the first time Madara, child or not, would actually step past the threshold.

He resolved to give himself a silent pat on the back, watching carefully as Madara took everything from the bookshelves to the altar in, knowing those hawk-like eyes were looking for dust as his clean freakishness often had him doing and finding none.

The tension seeped from Madara's shoulders and he carefully took off his shoes, setting them neatly aside as he wandered furthered in, already growing comfortable in Tobirama's small space. At least, if anything, Tobirama could rest knowing he had made a good impression, hoping it would serve him well when the jutsu finally wore off.

"You know," Madara began over his bowl of noodles, slurping the noodles gracelessly. "I don't think your brother would've wanted me to come stay with you if he knew I was courting you."

"You're a child at the moment— that's hardly relevant right now," still Tobirama felt his face warm and he swallowed some of his food quickly to disguise it. What they had while Madara was an adult was— nice. A small secret for just the two of them while they got comfortable with each other.

Just the other day he and the older man had a picnic besides a lake closer to the edges of Konoha, waded deep and relaxed beneath the stars— quiet because they hadn't needed any words to enjoy just being with each other. It was smiles upon eye contact, soft laughs at little quirks. Thinking of slightly chapped, languid lips against his own, gentle like the brush of fingers on something so invaluably precious and irreplaceable, the feel of coarse hair twisting in his hands and just the comfort of a body pressed to his to block the chill of night air made something warm build in his chest and spread to his cheeks.

It wasn't so nice a memory to think about when his beau was a mere twelve years old to his twenty-eight however.

Madara set his bowl down carefully. "Does it bother you?"

"Hm?" Tobirama wasn't used to the other man, boy, being so pensive. He put his scroll down and met Madara's eyes, concerned.

"Does it bother you to be with me?" Madara clarified, clearing his throat as he sat up straight. "I know with our past, the rumors, and our temperaments— they don't exactly make for an ideal relationship but..."

Tobirama interrupted. "But yet I have not rejected you or your gifts," he frowned. "Madara, my only problem before was that— well, I had wanted to keep things private for a bit and have time for us before Anija started planning a wedding and now, well you're a child now," he scrunched his nose in disgust, giving Madara a pointed look when the boy stared at him with a fondness much too heady and mature for his age. "It's best not to think of my attraction to you given the circumstances."

Madara flushed, looking away quickly. "Ah right." He paused for a long moment before a cheeky grin pulled at his lips. "I suppose I won't be allowed to sleep in your room then?"

Tobirama scowled, throwing cold tea into Madara's face, relishing, privately, the crack of the boy's voice, so much more high pitched than how Tobirama knew it to be.

———————————————————

"You can't do that _Shouta,_ " Tobirama hissed between gritted teeth. It was only the second day and he was ready to throw Madara, now going by Shouta, into the deepest, roughest river he could find.

Drawing a deep breath to calm himself, he willed water from the air to douse the flames engulfing the now terrified shopkeeper's stall.

"He was _flirting_ —" Madara bristled, crossing his arms. "He deserved it!"

Tobirama huffed, apologizing quickly to the shopkeeper and pulling Madara away. "He asked where I got my kimono—"

"Because he was admiring the way it fits you!"

Tobirama cringed. Madara's voice as an adult never, not once no matter how much he was yelling, ever got so shrill. He would need to invest in earplugs at this rate. Glancing around discreetly, he shoved Madara around the corner, away from prying eyes and dropped to a crouch so they could talk face to face.

"Because he liked the fabric and wanted some pieces made for his daughter! You are completely insufferable, even as a child!" Tobirama snapped.

"I'm protecting your virtue! Hashirama said you never realized when people were interested. And that shopkeeper was interested. I _know_ he was!" Madara protested angrily, before turning away and crossing his arms, grumbling curses under his breath.

Rubbing at his nose— it was a wonder the shape hadn't changed after all the times his frustration had him irritating it— he sighed explosively before swallowing a quick, calming breath. Younger Madara lacked maturity and sense apparently so Tobirama needed to gain patience.

"Madara, you trust me, correct?" he asked softly.

Madara turned back to him curiously. "Of course."

"So why would anyone showing interest in me be a reason to get so angry unless you thought I would leave my courtship with you for them? That is a lack of trust towards me Madara," Tobirama explained. He'd seen too many people treat their partners in such a manner and he detested it. He wanted to be able to be himself without worrying how others would perceive him— he had lived much too long with others in mind.

Madara fiddled at the braided bangs Tobirama had put his hair into, pinky finger touching his lip. 

"I didn't mean to make you feel that way," he whispered. "I just...don't like it."

Tobirama smiled softly. Madara, no matter his age, was always much too protective. He couldn't fault him though. Not now.

"Let's go, I have to get some shopping done. I think you already finished all the food I had in the house."

Madara blushed fiercely, ducking his head so his hair fell in front of his face though he still took Tobirama's hand in his.

"You said I could have whatever I wanted!" Madara's free hand was back by his lips again.

"Ah right. Whatever, everything. I see how you could get the words confused," Tobirama ribbed gently, easily pushing down Madara's hand so the boy wouldn't bite his nails. "That's a bad habit, don't do that."

As they passed the still horrified shopkeeper, Madara stood upright, pout replaced with a haughty sneer. "You talking to him won't change anything. _He's mine."_

Tobirama flushed, letting out an awkward laugh as the other villagers eyed him in curious amusement.

"New student," he grimaced through an explanation. "You know how they are."

"We know how they are with _you,_ Tobirama-sama!" Someone called out, drawing more chuckles from the crowd.

"He's so cute!" A lady smiled, gently patting Madara's head as she passed by. "If only people closer to our age were like this, hmm, Tobirama-sama?"

Madara preened under the attention, tugging Tobirama closer and intertwining their fingers, much to the growing entertainment of the entire marketplace. Tobirama thanked every kami for his happuri, casually activating the seal on the side to cool his flaming skin.

If he let Hiruzen test his monkey summon on Madara later that day, no one would have to know (something that was more terrifying without the ability to use his sharingan anymore, having been sent back to an age where he did not have them).

Not that that stopped Madara from yelling at anyone that showed a smidgeon of too much interest in Tobirama to "get their own boyfriend".   
  
———————————————————

"Madara, you needn't carry everything," Tobirama sighed, watching fondly as the boy shifted the basket and bags about in his arms, stumbling along as they made their way back to Tobirama's home. "I am perfectly capable of carrying my own groceries."

It was only the fourth day of Madara's stay and they'd run out of groceries _again._ Especially the few sweets he had bought just for Madara. Those were gone within moments.

Madara squawked suddenly, one leg tripping over the other, and went sprawling to the ground. With a quick shunshin, Tobirama dropped a scroll onto the dirt to catch all the groceries, letting his free hand shoot out to grab Madara and pull him upright. Straightening the young boy's collar, he snatched up the now rolled scroll and tucked it into his pocket.

"Like I said, perfectly capable of carrying my groceries," he drawled. Catching sight of Madara's embarrassed pout— and oh, he made that exact expression as an adult too!— hair moving forward to hide his face again, Tobirama pushed the unruly strands back with an indulgent smile. "How about we get some dango?"

The word _koibito_ hovered on the tip of his tongue but he bit it back. He was getting rather impatient waiting on this jutsu to let up.

He ignored the flicker of ire and almost-sadness, grinning as Madara's face lit up. If anything, he was given quite the ideal opportunity to know his suitor. He could enjoy it while it lasted.

———————————————————

"Save me," Mito snarled as soon as he and Madara stepped through the door. Her face was splotchy and she seemed less composed than ever. "Before I kill your brother."

Tobirama blinked, eyes searching, landing on his brother sat in the corner and facing the wall. "Mito-nee—"

"Because Hashirama doesn't realize being in his childhood body doesn't mean he can act like a child. He keeps making messes and being too loud and, Hashirama if I hear you wailing _one more time—"_

 _"_ Breathe Aneue," Tobirama held his hands up placatingly.

Mito heaved a breath, pushing her hair behind her ear before resting her hands on her belly. Her eyes were watering when she looked back at Tobirama. "We need to work on the jutsu Tobirama. I can't— with the Hokage duties and watching Hashirama and feeling sick _all the time—"_

Tobirama nodded. "Go sit, Aneue. Madara—"

"I can make you some tea, Mito-hime," the boy said, bowing quickly and heading to the kitchen. "Ginger maybe? Or chamomile?"

Mito stared at him in wonderment. "How—I thought he'd be like Hashirama. I was sure of it. Has he been well-behaved this entire week?"

Tobirama smiled sheepishly. "More or less." He frowned, sending a hard look to the boy all but wilted over himself. "Has Anija been giving you a lot of trouble?"

"Not really—" she glanced at the boy. "Hashirama, can you be a dear and help Madara in the kitchen please?"

Hashirama sprang from his seat, wiping his eyes and nodding hurriedly. "Of course Mito-!"

The rest of the sentence was lost as he scurried away.

"I just need my husband, Tobirama. Not this child who can't keep his hands off my belly or food in his mouth. I— he's not even being bad! Not really, just—"

"Overwhelming?"

Mito gave a small nod, looking horribly miserable.

"He was like that as a child. He only learned more restraint as an adult when he realized he kept accidentally hurting others in his enthusiasm," Tobirama rolled his eyes, heart feeling a little too fond given the grievances his brother had put him through. Once, Hashirama had fractured his ribs with a _hug_. He'd hoped, however, that Hashirama would not fall back on childhood habits.

He should've seen it though— Madara had after all. The flailing, the quirky habits, threatening with fire— wait no, he did that as an adult— but everything else was so painstakingly _innocent._ Tobirama should've really kept a closer watch on Hashirama.

"I've been working on the jutsu, a little while longer and I believe I will be able to undo everything," he reassured.

Mito sighed in relief, pulling Tobirama into a hug as best as she could around the swell of her stomach. Tobirama let her hold onto him for a few long moments, talking softly of the progress he made with the seals and making note of her suggestions, before coaxing her into the kitchen to eat.

And let Mito freeze, hiding his smile at her surprise. Dishes were neatly laid across the table, a cup of steaming tea covered with a small plate and placed by Mito's seat. Madara grinned at them from beside the stove, turning at a pot.

"I'm making ramen! I know it's nothing fancy but you seemed stressed and tired so I thought you might want something easier to eat so you can go rest sooner."

Mito blinked. Settled herself into her seat and took a sip of her tea, humming appreciatively. "I didn't even remember having those spices."

"You didn't," Madara frowned. "I don't know what the hell you two are eating but without these," he gestured to the various small bottles he had set on the counter, "it can't be anything good. I sent Hashi to Tobi's. I made him buy these earlier."

Hashirama grinned, swinging his feet from where he sat atop the counter. "See! I helped! I even set the table!"

He looked at Mito hopefully and she smiled. "Thank you Hashirama. Thank you Madara."

Both boys beamed proudly though Madara quickly ducked behind his hair, adorably bashful. "It's very simple. I hope you find it as pleasing as the effort."

Mito smiled encouragingly, taking the pot from Madara and helping share it into the bowls. "I am certain it is delightful Madara."

Madara blushed a bit brighter, settling quickly in front of his own bowl.

"Itadakimasu!"

Tobirama grinned, making sure to limit his own portion as he watched his brother's and sister-in-law's eyes open with surprise, noises of appreciation slipping past their lips as they dug in with a little more vigor than would be polite. Mito and Hashirama were sure to want seconds. Maybe even thirds.

Madara's eyes darted to Tobirama's bowl and he looked up with confusion, eyes silently asking if Tobirama were okay. Smiling gently, Tobirama glanced at their other two companions before dropping Madara a wink.

It was okay. He'd get Madara to cook for him later.

———————————————————

"I uh want to go look for berries at the river! From over there!" Madara called out awkwardly, shuffling from one foot to the other.

Hashirama looked up from the berries he and Tobirama were picking. He looked bemused for all of two seconds before his lips spread in a wicked grin that he hid behind his basket. "Okay!"

Tobirama, too busy separating the berries (and perhaps sneaking a few to eat) just nodded distractedly, only looking up when Hashirama stood up a few minutes later. "Anija?"

"Let's go look at the river too, Tobi!"

Rolling his eyes, Tobirama let himself be pulled down the path Madara took, frowning when he heard something like a trickle of water when usually the river was silent during these times of low-tide. As they neared, he could just faintly make out Madara's hair and, just before he could call out, watched Hashirama throw himself out of the bushes right behind the other boy.

Madara's back went ramrod straight.

"Still can't go when someone's behind you?" Hashirama laughed loudly, finger pointing.

Madara whirled around just as Tobirama stepped through the bushes, face cherry red and mouth open to scream at Hashirama. Upon seeing Tobirama, he burned even redder, looking for all the world humiliated and betrayed as he hissed at Hashirama to shut up.

And suddenly so many other things made sense. Madara's insistence to wait until Tobirama was far too distracted or not even in the house to use the restroom, mumbled excuses of needing privacy to go do something like clean or having to water plants of all things ("better for him to get the job done correctly") keeping the bathroom door firmly locked even though Tobirama had not once known him to be body shy. Hell, just that morning Madara thought it appropriate to walk around the house with nothing but a small towel wrapped about his waist.

Madara was shy to use the bathroom around...anyone apparently. Tobirama bit back a laugh, frowning instead when he saw Madara hide more behind his hair, the tip of his nose reddening as he curled as much into himself as he could.

Tobirama could feel the headache coming. Why did he think agreeing to watch over both of them was a good idea? Oh right, so Mito could rest and Touka wouldn't feel tempted to commit treason by killing one of the two brats. Especially given the fiasco that happened yesterday when Touka was in his shoes so he and Mito could work on the seal more.

He really was too kind for his own good.

"Anija!" Tobirama snapped. "Stop wasting time bothering Madara."

"But Tobi—" Hashirama whined. "I—"

"We are going to pick berries at the river mouth—Madara already has this area covered."

That would put them far off out each other's sight so Madara could have his privacy and still be close enough for Tobirama to come if anything were to happen. He dragged his brother away without another word, missing the besotted and grateful look Madara shot him.

It wasn't too long until Madara joined them again, flicking his hands through a much too familiar sign and setting the edge of Hashirama's clothing on fire. Shrieking, Hashirama took off upstream before Tobirama could douse him with water, passing the place Madara had been and diving beneath the river surface.

"I suppose that was fair," Tobirama mused. "I don't think he got hurt at least."

Madara scuffed the ground with his shoe, voice soft when he responded. "Yeah."

"There's no need to be embarrassed. While I'm certainly surprised your bladder cooperated with your discomfort in quite the opposite manner than I would have expected—"

The boy flushed deeper. "No! I um yeah that's odd but I um, I actually have something for you!"

"Oh?" Tobirama raised a brow. "Did you get something while you were with Touka?"

Madara shook his head, determinedly looking at his shoes. "No I, I meant to give this to you earlier but then," he waved his hand about awkwardly. "-all of this happened instead."

Tobirama squinted, nose wrinkled. "Before you do that, did you wash your hands?"

The Uchiha squawked. "Of course I did! I'm not your _brother_! Stupid Senju—!" He shoved a small box in Tobirama's hands as he continued his tirade against the Senju Clan.

Ignoring him— Tobirama had gotten quite good at that even before they began courting— he opened the box carefully and stilled. Inside was a small chain with a circular tanzanite pendant, a silver dragon figurine curled around one edge, its tail curling up to connect the pendant to the chain, and a silver leopard figurine stretched along the opposite edge. Their eyes were little red gems, pyrope, and almost exactly the shape and shade of his eyes. The only difference was the trace of black cutting through the red, carving Madara's mangekyou into the dragon's eyes.

Tobirama felt his breath catch.

"Madara—"

"You like both those animals! And, and you said I'm— that having me around is like having you're own personal dragon so I..." his voice fell to little over a whisper. "I had that made for you. So it's like I'm always around, like we're always together."

And now Tobirama's eyes were watering, happy tears, and wasn't that an idea. After so much grief, after never once even humoring such an absurdity as crying happily like his brother, Tobirama was well on the verge of doing the same.

Falling to his knees, he pulled the Uchiha into his arms, habit leading him to tuck his face against Madara's hair. "I find myself really wishing you weren't a child right now."

Madara stroked a hand through Tobi's hair, returning the hug tightly with a disgruntled pout. "Me too. This is fucking annoying. I want to kiss your pretty face, damn. Why's that so much to ask for?"

" _What?!"_

Hashirama stood gaping behind them, horror and anger twisting his features. "You're dating my brother?"

"Anija—" Tobirama sighed, hand going right for the bridge of his nose.

"No!" Hashirama yelled, stomping his foot, childishly if not for the Mokuton poking through the dirt. "No, you don't get to say anything! You were supposed to tell me before— don't bother explaining or, or giving excuses now! I forbid it!"

Tobirama reeled back in shock. Not once, not even in the worse of Hashirama's anger, had he ever tried to silence Tobirama.

" _What?"_ Madara growled. "You _what?"_

Hashirama snarled. "I _forbid_ you from dating my brother."

The plants and grass were growing, leaves and stems thickening, hardening, and coiling up towards Madara.

"You can't do that!"

"I can! And I will! I know you! I know your habits—"

" _My habits?"_

"All that damn time— you can't handle a long-term relationship! And I'm not letting you _use_ my brother, you backstabbing—" Hashirama was shaking with rage. "You, _you bastard!"_

With a yell, he lunged towards Madara recklessly only to be thrown over the Uchiha's shoulder. Madara kneeled onto Hashirama's chest, wrapping a hand around his throat, body also trembling with fury.

Tobirama moved to separate them, hands grabbing at Madara's shoulders.

"I love him!" Madara yelled. " _I love him!_ And you don't get a damn say in any of it!"

Hashirama stopped clawing at Madara's hands and Tobirama's own hands went slack. Madara spun to look at him, sharingan burning in his eyes. Something like desperation seemed to spin in the commas.

"You hear me? _I love you."_

Perhaps with the best timing ever, the air filled with smoke, startling them all apart. Tobirama covered his eyes as a bright light danced between the wisps and tossed the scroll he'd kept packed with Hashirama's and Madara's clothes into the fog, right at the red eyes looking back at him. When it dissipated, a Madara, an adult Madara (thankfully somewhst properly dressed) was standing there, sharingan still spinning in his eyes as he stared at Tobirama. No words passed before the two men pressed their lips together, hands tangling in each other's hair. Something wet trickled down their cheeks and Tobirama couldn't tell if the tears were coming from his eyes or Madara's.

"I love you, I love you," Madara whispered between kisses. And Tobirama nodded as of to answer some unspoken question.

"You love him?" Hashirama whispered, eyes flooding with tears. He tugged a haori over his shoulders. "You love my baby brother? You're not just— Oh. Oh Madara I thought you were— oh I'm so happy!"

They weren't paying attention to Hashirama's babbling though, too transfixed and overly emotional at the admission of a confession they had been denying themselves.

"I've missed you," Tobirama murmured, pressing his forehead against Madara's. "Don't ever go in my lab without me again."

Madara laughed shakily. "Never. I'm never going anywhere without you ever again." 

———————————————————

Omake:

Hashirama wailed, squirming against the chains and seals in vain to get away as Madara used his kama to shear his long brown locks down to the base of his scalp.

"I told you I'd chop your hair off, bastard!" Madara cackled. "Now stay still before I _accidentally_ take your head off!"

"I can't believe you disguised yourself as Mito!" Hashirama sobbed. "I can't believe she and Tobirama _helped_ you! Traitors!"

Madara just laughed louder and continued hacking at Hashirama's hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! I know, they're not babies and/or toddlers and that makes for the cutest fics but ayo, why do that when writing about puberty flails is so much more fun? XD
> 
> Shout out to @MadMothMadame whose cleverness saved this fic from being titled something stupid. Like, You Make My Voice Crack 
> 
> The reference is that Madara's name can be translated to "Spots" so ta-da. Cue images of puppy Madara
> 
> Guys, guys, someone made an art of my work and I wanted to ask if I could just embed it but as I had no response, here's a link to their tumblr instead because it's amazinggg: https://moooooiste.tumblr.com/
> 
> Just scroll down a bit on their page and you'll see it. It's so great <3


	4. Out the Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mentioning of violence and cruelty typical for the anime 
> 
> This one’s angsty guys. I couldn’t help it
> 
> Also, it was written more quickly and unbeta’d so hopefully it’s alright XD

Everything was perfect.

The world itself felt a hair-width shy of too right and Madara...Madara hated it.

Nothing surprised him or filled him with genuine warmth anymore— not his brother’s smiles or his lover’s affection, not Hashirama’s jokes or the Village’s respect. He liked some parts, having Izuna with him was better than those long years without and existing beside Hashirama as bubbly as he was the day they met soothed the ache that never quite left when they had to five up their friendship. Even the villagers, ones he remembered despising or fearing him, were solicitous, eager, even for a chance to address him and pull him into conversation.

There wasn’t ever a reason to complain except, of course, about Tobirama.

In a world where Izuna wasn’t struck down by the younger Senju’s hands, the man had been twisted and molded (not the real him. That him long dead, a mere living carcass with chakra rods nailing him into the ground, alone, where he’d punish endlessly, hopelessly unable to release the godforsaken jutsu he himself made and go back to the Pure Lands) until he was still everything Madara remembered and changed in all the ways Madara had hated.

But it didn’t feel right.

The one he left on battle-ruined earth still had a bite to his tongue, sharp and increasingly hateful as people lived and died within the Infinite Tsyukyomi without anyone else knowing any better. The one he held in his arms was almost demure, arguing just the right amount before stepping back, insults and jibes not even passing his tongue into the air. The real one watched Madara with first hate, then pity, and now disgust as seasons passed and more people were curling into their bodies, skin slipping off bone and organs all but disappeared within the cocoons. Tsyukyomi Tobirama only had adoration in his pyrope eyes, fond and soft as the hands he ran through Madara’s hair and along his skin. Nothing could hold that Tobirama’s attention better— not Hikaku and his poetry, not mindless inventions and research binges, not even his students. Instead he was always within Madara’s reach— body, mind, and actions melting to something that was both thoughtless and thoughtful, putty in Madara’s hands the way Madara lusted for and so, so caring it made Madara forget how to breathe at first. But there were no worldly musings or ventures, no getting lost in his head and pushing for progress when others were already content.

It was like having a doll.

The real Tobirama had hoped somewhere deep where he thought Madara couldn’t see that the people would be fine, that the tree was sustaining them and not merely trapping and using them. Madara could see it, that fiery passion and self-sacrifice burning brighter than Madara’s strongest fire jutsus and felt the sudden urge to put them out. Put them out like the doll’s that stared at him day in and out, until those red eyes were muted, washed out color in water dripping away rather than the very imprint of a brand on his soul. The Uchiha had smirked then, anger and hate roiling up— because this was the Tobirama he wanted, the one he couldn’t have and no one else should be allowed to have, not even the dry earth or still air— grabbing the nearest cocoon and tearing it open in front of the other man, throwing his head back in laughter when Tobirama made as if to move away, equal parts repulsed and sorrowful, and woefully unable to budge a single inch.

“Have you finally found your happiness, Madara? Your peace? All these people you’ve killed for Izuna and he’s still no more than a figment of your imagination,” the white-haired man hissed. Those red eyes taunted him, almost smug but much too disgusted to relish being right as he had been wont to do. Instead he mocked, the trace a snarl lining every word in his rage, “Young Naruto here has a _body_. Even in death or your fake world, you can see him, touch him. Where’s Izuna, Madara? Have you his corpse hung up somewhere?”

_Out the lights. Out that fire._

It burned in Madara, turning him inside out. The warmth that could have led him home stared at him like it rather rise, heat to an inferno, and consume until Madara was nothing more than ashes to be spread out in the wind.

_Out the lights._

Tobirama taunted him, laying there like that with grief carved into the lines of his face, voicing cracking just slightly as if begging Madara to see sense. Madara wanted to laugh. _Now_ the Senju wanted to save him?

_Out the fire._

It was too late.

Tobirama couldn’t even save himself, not from his own conscious and most certainly not from Madara. Everyone else had broken, everyone but this damned man whose hands and memory seemed to put Madara together and take him apart again and again.

(Those lips had once kissed his temple, whispered apologies like mantras and then slipped out of his hands again, wary of the single strand that held Madara’s sanity.

“You’re dangerous,” he’d said, something like mourning and longing weighing his words. “You Uchiha love more than your sanity allows and that is your downfall.”

“Prove me wrong, Madara.” Those eyes had begged him, pulled him like the comfort of a healthy flame and blanket on a cold winter day. Pulled at him again as Tobirama stared past Naruto’s emaciated body into dark eyes that used to scare him. “Prove me wrong.”)

Hope. Tobirama was _hopeful_. And the only thing Madara could see was Izuna’s deathbed.

**_Out the light._ **

Madara tore the rods out, kama swiping through Tobirama’s leg and leaving him to drag as Madara yanked him along by his hair.

He summoned down another cocoon, the body was still alive in this one, for now at least, and ripped it open. Hashirama, warm-bodied and serene as ever, calm in the ways he was not when Madara resurrected him back to his living self, hung limply in the cocoon. His Mokuton would keep him alive for now but even then his powers would eventually run out.

Tobirama struggled, hands grabbing at Madara’s hair and clothing desperately, but Madara still forced him in, letting the fibers of the shell wrap closed over the man’s yells and muffling them.

And returned to his perfect world.

(If he visited the real Tobirama, it didn’t matter. Even a perfect world couldn’t have everything. His didn’t have the one man he wanted to love.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayo, soooo bit of whirlwind from chapter three to four. What do you guys think? Which genre speaks more to your soul? Lol
> 
> Guys, guys, Strange by Tokio Hotel is such a vibe for this fic


	5. And I Preferred to Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what I'm not good at? Coming up with crafty titles
> 
> MadaTobi Week 2: Demons and Angels au
> 
> Warnings for depiction of religion-- it's vague, there is nothing really being denounced or lauded, okay? Don't take offense <3 Also, minor depictions of war and related violence, forced homelessness, and referenced suicide attempts are also present in this fic. Please, if any of these is something that you've had experience with or is triggering, be cautious if you decide to read. It is not particularly descriptive and does not end on sad notes but it can be discomfiting
> 
> Also, note that the dividers are symbolizing a change in time, from a recollection to present day if that makes sense.

The first time he met the arrogant angel— an outcast even among his own kind— with what seemed to every religious doctrine shoved far up where the sun didn't shine, Madara knew he was in love. With hair as white as the downy feathers curved around his shoulders and eyes as red as the very flames of Hell, Madara was drawn like a tortured soul to respite. Now, most would say the endeavor was hopeless— Madara was a Prince of Hell, next in line to take the throne as the new Satan and this angel, this good-hearted, sharp-tongued snowflake who the very thought of eased the burn of flames under Madara's skin, would surely not have any interest in a being as deviant as Madara. But Madara could see it— interest, desire, it simmered in those eyes. Madara only had to bring those feelings to a boil, stoke the flames until they overflowed and that—

Well that was easier than he thought it'd be. The angel wasn't like the rest of his kind, wary of evil certainly and with many more horns in hand, but he didn't let the mentality he'd been entrenched in to deter him from making and passing judgement on his own. Like playing a fiddle, Madara was able to pluck the angel's strings in a melody no one else could follow, pulling him deeper and deeper into the darkness of Madara's depths, that bright halo of light growing dimmer until it outed completely. Until the angel was his and only his, no thrum of propriety and godliness in those once innocent bones—

"Madara, what are you telling the children?"

Madara glanced up from where he lay on a pile of plush pillows, grinning lazily and baring his fangs. "The story of how we got together, obviously."

Tobirama gave him a flat look, long-suffering and far too used to Madara's antics. He settled down in the blanket fort beside their kids, letting little Saiyuri cuddle close and covering her with his wing. The other four children leaned closer, Kagami grinning mischievously.

"I bet Papa did play you like a fiddle, Dad," Kagami drawled, smile stretching wider. "Seeing he doesn't know how to play at all."

"Oy!" Madara protested over his family's sudden outburst of laughter, tugging gently the young boy's curls. "So mean Kagami-chan."

"But true?" Kimiko smirked. "I bet Daddy just had to smile at you and you turned into a puddle."

Tobirama grinned, that same crooked smile their daughter Mitsuki had somehow adopted, the one that the kids dubbed as "un-evil" unlike Madara's and kissed Madara's cheek, nuzzling against him for a moment. "I most definitely did."

Madara winced, hiding the shudder that threatened to wrack his frame. That had been _terrible_.

"Wait, really?" Sora sat upright, eyes darting between his parents. "You turned Papa into a puddle, Daddy?"

"Well—"

———————————-

It was an unpleasant day, the air clouded with sand and ash, the scent of blood only shadowed by the grief washing around them. Tobirama felt sick to the stomach. War, no matter how good he was with strategizing and winning, never settled well in his gut. The constant battle of good and evil, right and wrong, disgusted him. And this demon, bloody Prince of Hell— he didn't look happy either, torn between enjoying the battle display, lights flashing and noise reaching ear-splitting levels, and curling close to the injured people on the ground, wings spread as if to shield them— but Tobirama didn't care. People were hurt. And that, that made him hurt. With a snarl, he yanked the demon away, only for the man to twist them about, dropping Tobirama beside the injured family and standing over them, a wall of black shooting up to counter the bullets raining down on them.

Tobirama watched wide-eyed as mines exploded beside the gunmen, as their weapons locked and would not shoot anymore, and could only follow along as Madara led him and the wounded people to a safer area, hidden by high and sturdy walls.

It was later, when the gun fighting had finally stopped that Tobirama had a chance to let himself process what in God's thousand names had happened, mind racing as he waved a hand and caused a fighter jet aiming for a nearby hospital to explode. And the demon was still there, getting in the way.

"You know, something like this wouldn't be a bad date. Just you and me protecting the helpless, blowing things up in the process—"

Tobirama huffed. "Is now really the time to be flirting, demon?"

Madara stared at him, confused. "Yes? Is there a specific time set for you angels to do that? I know you guys are uptight but.."

"Oh for the love of—" Tobirama scrunched his nose, flicking his hand carelessly. Madara yelped, plopping to the ground in a puddle of liquid. "You'll return to normal soon enough but not soon enough to keep bothering me. I've people to heal and bring peace to."

———————————-

Saiyuri pouted. "Papa no puddle?"

Tobirama laughed, a quiet breath of a thing like a sprinkle of peaceful happiness, and pulled the girl into a hug. "No. Papa is not a puddle anymore."

"But I want puddle Papa," she said softly, fluttering her cute little eyes at Madara, knowing full well in all three of her years of life since they found her abandoned in a ramshackle mess of a home that he had not, _could_ not, say no to her.

"Umm well—?" Madara shifted uncomfortably. He really hated being a puddle. But he looked at the little girl staring up at him and heaved a breath, full and ready to melt to goo on his favorite blankets

"....I'm not sure if I should say no to you or Saiyuri," Tobirama arched a brow. "Honestly Madara. Stop spoiling her so much. Sai, your Papa can't turn into a puddle just because you want him to. Uh uh, no pouting, you know better. Let's listen to the rest of the story."

_Thank you father, Satan. God actually since Tobi saved me? One of you._

Madara deflated with relief, pinching the tip his daughter's nose gently and making her laugh. "Right. Onto the story. Um where were we?"

"Dad turned you into a puddle because you have inappropriate timing," Mitsuki laughed, eyes sparkling with mirth at Madara's pain.

Honestly Madara wasn't so sure he adopted his children. They were too much like he and Tobirama to not be of their DNA.

Wait, angels and demons didn't really _have_ DNA. Tobirama probably brainwashed them. The good side _excelled_ in propaganda.

"You're so lucky you're cute," Madara grumped to his kids' snickering. " _Anyways_ , right so after that..."

——————————

Madara was aggravated. The couple in front of him just would not stop blabbering on and on about sin and God's will or whatever. Even angels, not even the one he called to join him, didn't oft make assumptions like that. The nerve of these people.

"God will hate you!" The mother shrilled, tears streaming from her eyes.

"Mom, mom please.." the girl begged, sobbing. "Dad?"

Tobirama stood in the corner silently, emotionless mask in place. He met Madara's eyes and disappeared.

"No daughter of mine—," the man shook his head, turning away and pulling his wife inside and shutting the door. The girl wailed, grabbing at the knob only to hear the lock click in place.

"No mom, mom. Dad, please. I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" She sobbed, falling to her knees against the door. "Let me in please!"

"Sweetheart?" An older lady seemed to appear from thin air on the sidewalk. She walked a little closer, casting her salwar and _Om_ pendant in light, a man wearing a traditional thobe and another woman with a cross hanging around her neck following behind her. "Are you alright?"

"My parents— my parents hate me," the girl choked out between her sobs. The lady that spoke frowned, dropping onto the porch and pulling the girl into a hug.

"It's okay. You'll be okay," she said, stroking the girl's hair soothingly. "They won't let you in?"

The girl shook her head, clinging tighter to the woman.

"Alright, alright. It's okay. Easy does it. We're with the Interfaith Peace Association. We help youth and young adults in the community who are going through difficult times. We're here. We'll help you."

Tobirama appeared beside him. "Perhaps we should give them some privacy."

Madara nodded his agreement, catching Tobirama's wrist and whisking them away to his favorite cafe. As they settled into the booth, Madara snapped his fingers, willing a waiter with drinks and pie to them rather than the couple who'd ordered it. Tobirama scowled.

"What?" Madara said. "It's easier this way! And I love the cider and key lime pie here."

Tobirama just snapped his own fingers, the waiter hastily going back to the couple with their food. Another swept through the kitchen door with Madara's order.

"Fine. Ruin my fun," Madara pouted.

"You're lucky I didn't make you wait," Tobirama said, already scooping pie into his mouth. "And you're leaving the tip."

Madara's eyes lit up with glee. "3 cents!" He tucked his fork into the pie. "They'll hate it!"

Tobirama snatched away Madara's plate. "Try again."

"What? No!" Madara whined, reaching for his plate.

Tobirama tilted the plate towards the floor.

"30 cents!" Madara said desperately. The whipped cream was starting to slide off. "30% of the bill!"

The angel righted the plate, handing it to Madara to held it to himself protectively. "Good job, demon. Very kind."

"For all the things we agree on," Madara huffed. "You take exception with my humor."

"You're not funny," Tobirama drawled, sipping his cider.

———————————

"Ooooh burn!" Kimiko and Sora laughed.

Kagami nodded. "Your humor does leave a lot to desire, Papa."

"Can I just tell this story _without_ you guys giving me a hard time?" Madara crossed his arms, playfully glaring at each of his kids in turn.

"....."

They glanced at each other for a moment, turning back to him.

"Nope!"

——————————-

Valentine's Day was an awful day, a day when angels and demons got too comfy sharing the same realm they were meant to try and steal from each other. People were falling in love, people were breaking, people were being born and others were dying— all in the name of love. It was rather sickening.

Tobirama sighed. The last time he'd been forced onto Earth on this godforsaken holiday, he had yet to learn how to shield himself properly and fit in with the humans. The amount of propositions he received....he shuddered. It was awful enough to have lived through once. He needn't remind himself of it.

Still, sometimes he did wonder the appeal of a holiday as equally delightful as it was wretched. Wondered what it'd be like to be a recipient of a kinder fate where princes rode in on horses bearing gifts and declarations of love. Where roses would come without thorns.

Where the demon he'd grown achingly fond off was not so different from him.

Alas, it wasn't meant to be. They were two very different people in very different walks of life. He shouldn't get these human hopes up. He watched the sunset from the bridge station he'd been post at— so many people were walking off the damn thing than across it today and it was necessary to remind each and every one of them that _yes, they most definitely were loved,_ so they'd remember themselves and cross the bridge correctly— and melting of bright colors into darkness, like the glow of his halo against Madara's horns and froze.

He needed to stop thinking these things. Madara didn't like him, not a little bit, not at all. The demon did not—

"Oy, angel! Happy Valentine's!"

Madara landed beside him, skeletal pegasus clomping silently down onto the walkway. "I spent all day looking for you!"

The demon swung off his steed, sauntering to Tobirama with poorly constructed confidence— his nervousness was almost _palpable—_ and carefully held out a bouquet of roses.

Gemstone roses with smooth ivory stems, soft leaves and vines twined about them to hold the flowers together. The gems felt soft, like real petals, but glittered under the rising moon, alive in a way even real flowers seemed to lack. There weren't any thorns.

Tobirama looked at Madara in shock, pulling the flowers closer to his chest. "Madara—"

The demon grinned. "Had to get you something that'd last as long as us, angel. Anyways, see you around. The old man's got a list for me to see to."

"Wait!" Tobirama, cursing his pessimism and himself for not thinking ahead, reached back and pulled a single silvery feather from his wing. Shoving it into Madara's hands— and it was so significant. No angel would just casually give up the wings of their feathers, not when the magic properties in them made them so very precious— he nodded, somewhat satisfied with his gift to the other. "Now you can go."

—————————————-

"That's where—! Oh wow, that's so sweet!" Sora cheered. The boy glanced at the bouquet that sat atop the counter, that had always sat atop the counter since the day they moved into the house, the gems glittering under the artificial light.

"I want someone to love me like that," he whispered.

Mitsuki hugged the younger boy with a reassuring smile before turning to her Papa with a snort. "I can't believe dad keeps getting the last word."

" _Give me a break already."_

_————————————_

Madara bowed his head nervously, shivering in the ice cold air of the throne room, the frozen tiles locking his knees in place.

"Father—"

"Silence!" Tajima, now Satan, roared. "I don't, I don't want to hear another word, Madara!"

The older man paced back and forth across the throne room, wringing his hands through his hair. Flames followed his steps, licking and melting the tile. All the demons had gathered to bear witness to Madara's trial, excitement and worry meshing in every pump of blood in their veins. Their lord was of poor temperament at the best of times. Flirting with treason— there was no greater crime.

He could be killed for this, torn asunder and left to rot on the torture fields until he was nothing but leftover dust in the air. Madara could only be thankful that Tobirama was faring better than he was— his God smiling softly, albeit sadly, and let him go with a hug. The last thing Madara saw before his father dragged him through the cracks of earth, molten lava rising up to flood over his eyes and mouth, was pyrope eyes shining bright with unfettered joy and a crooked grin he didn't think he could love so much.

"Do you love him?" Izuna stepped into the light, flames drawing deep shadows across his face. The black-blue of his wings and horns seemed to blend him into the shadows, every shade of grief coloring in his lines.

" _Izuna!"_ Tajima snarled, spinning onto his heel to glare at his younger son.

"Do you love the angel, Aniki?" Izuna stepped forward urgently to grab Madara's hands. There were tears in his eyes. "Do you, Aniki?"

Madara swallowed roughly. His father was fuming behind Izuna, black flames licking along his body. He didn't want his little brother to get in trouble, not for his transgressions. "Izuna..."

"Tell me, Aniki! Because if the answer's no, he'll be killed. The demons caught him when dad got you."

" _What?"_ Madara surged against the chains, wincing as they burnt deeper into his flesh but paying it no mind. "Dad—"

"Answer the question, Aniki!"

"Yes, damn it! What does that change?" Madara screamed.

"Not much," Izuna drawled. "But we can start the wedding."

His brother grinned, gesturing behind him. The demons parted, revealing Tobirama standing behind them, white angel robes lined with hellfire red. The man rose an eyebrow, a tired smile on his lips.

"Apparently fake kidnapping was a tradition started by Hades?" Tobirama looked exasperated but he moved to crouch in front of Madara. From his pocket he pulled a gold gilded key attached to a chain and slot it into the cuffs on Madara's wrists and ankles. "Keys rather than rings though, that's a nice touch. Not so nice having to make the locks and key but I prefer the symbolism."

The moment the cuffs fell away, Madara cupped Tobirama's head and pulled him into a long kiss, hands brushing through the soft white strands reverently. "So we're married then?" He whispered.

"Well um...Aniki. You can't exactly have your wings if you marry out of Hell," Izuna said sheepishly, twirling his finger in his hair.

"Neither can I," Tobirama sighed. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

"Would you want that? We would have to figure out how to live as humans and we'll die. You won't be able to help anyone—" Madara stroked along the marks on Tobirama's cheeks. "I don't want to take that from you. I don't want to take anything from you."

"You won't," Tobirama said firmly, curling closer to Madara. "And we could, if you wanted. We could do all of that. I wouldn't mind. I can still help people as a human, it'd just be more work—" 

"I'd give up the world for you," Madara breathed. "Wings, immortality, they're nothing."

————————————-

"Wait, wait, wait," Kagami interrupted. "But you didn't lose your wings! So—"

"Let your Papa finish the story, Kagami," Tobirama smiled kindly, ruffling the boy's hair. "It's almost done."

———————————-

"I rather not lose my Prince though," Tajima huffed. "It'll be really inconvenient."

"Maybe he could be an honorary Prince," Tobirama spun around. "We keep our wings but live out a life as humans. By then," and he looked to Madara as he spoke, " by then Izuna would be ready to stand in Madara's place."

Tajima hummed and thought for a minute. "Yeah, I guess that works. Very well, onto the preparations! I need to go laugh in Butsuma's face, if you'd excuse me. _I_ saw his son's proposal. He'll be so jealous."

———————————-

"And, ta-da! That's it. Butsuma was jealous. We got married in front of all the demons and angels, adopted you little brats, and lived happily ever after," Madara finished, doing jazz hands.

"Well that was lame," Kimiko pouted, snuggling into her blanket. "I wanted more action, more _hi-yah_!"

Sora cuddled close to Madara. "I think it was cute. I want to fall in love like that too."

"Me too!" Saiyuri said, playing with her teddy bear and making it dance along Tobirama's leg. "Love, love, love!"

Mitsuki glanced at the flowers on the counter almost wistfully. "Maybe without all that drama."

When the kids had long settled into the blankets, the two men curled up by the fireplace.

"I can't believe it has only been ten years since," Tobirama murmured.

"Well, we did court for almost an entire human lifespan," Madara grinned.

"It's hardly courting if I spent a good decade just rejecting you, Madara."

"Well I count it, okay? It was flirting. Let me be happy."

Tobirama laughed, pressing a soft kiss to Madara's pout. "If that helps you sleep, koibito."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if anyone got the reference, there's a quote by an unknown person that goes along the lines of: "Don't let the fear of falling keep you from flying." As they lost their wings for each other, I played with the saying to mean that they rather the fall from their powers to be with each other-- because, bear the cheesiness, love is worth the fall 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think! I've been trying my hand at writing in different styles so I would love the feedback (ie which one's your favorite, which is your least favored, etc etc etc)
> 
> Stay safe everyone!

**Author's Note:**

> I’ll eventually get to my other works as soon as inspiration finds me beneath all my stress. This work won’t be anywhere near updated regularly at all...I’ll probably finish or get further along with my other works first.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Including tips on humor lol :)


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